


Professional Workplace Relations

by Anonymous



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Bells has weird tentacle dicks because even if he USED to be human, F/M, I think his fight with Luz makes it clear he ain't anymore, Semi-public hand jobs, like there's no one around but it's still technically a public SPACE so, there is absolutely NOTHING professional about any of this, they aren't in an actual RELATIONSHIP or anything but this isn't their first time with this shit, titles that lie to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kikimora is Emperor Belos's personal assistant. As such, it's her job to ensure that things within his castle are kept running smoothly.Whether this involves dealing with the day-to-day minutia of running a empire or offering her Emperor a small distraction when he needs it makes little difference.
Relationships: Emperor Belos/Kikimora
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34
Collections: Anonymous





	Professional Workplace Relations

**Author's Note:**

> I have a medical condition where whenever I'm confronted with a powerful, mysterious, formidable villain, my Brain-Goblin starts banging pots and pans together screaming "I WANT TO SEE HIM COMPLETELY DISMANTLED AND VULNERABLE DURING A SEXUAL ENCOUNTER!! I WANT HIM WRECKED AND WRITHING!!"
> 
> And y'all she went absolutely FERAL when she saw Bells.
> 
> This isn't QUITE what she wanted, mostly because this is my first time even attempting to write smut, but it is a clumsy step in that direction. Let me know if I tripped and fell of a cliff, or something.

Kikimora couldn’t help but feel that the Emperor seemed… _tense._

She had reported to his throne room to offer him her morning report. Good, fine, business as usual, one might say. But she felt she was suitably acquainted with his behaviors and postures to ascertain that he was acting more than a little _off_ that particular morning.

She first thought he might be building up to another episode, and was halfway to suggesting she send someone to fetch him a wayward palisman or something. But no, that wasn’t it – he wasn’t moving as though he was in pain, and by all accounts his breathing was even. No, this was something else. Something more mundane, thankfully, though it was still _something_ nonetheless.

 _Well,_ she decided finally, _nothing to do but ask, I suppose._

“…Sire?” she queried gently. “Might I have a word with you? A _private_ word?” she added pointedly, gaze flicking to the coven members stationed about his throne room.

The Emperor glanced at her briefly, then nodded, giving a short gesture with his hand. The coven members immediately began filing out.

The member in the golden mask who’d stood directly at the Emperor’s side lingered until the room was nearly empty, then silently trailed after their brothers in arms. When the doors swung shut behind them and they were alone, Kikimora turned her attention back to the Emperor.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, my liege,” she began, “but I can’t help but notice that you seem a bit… _out of sorts_.”

“Now why ever should I be suffering from a deficit of _sorts_ , Kiki?” he enquired back dryly. “Aside from the fact that the Day of Unity is fast approaching, and thanks to _certain_ people’s incompetence, I am as of yet still lacking the kingpin I require to implement our Great Titan’s plan? Because truly, aside from that, I haven’t a care in the world.” He took a breath then let it out in a huff, slouching slightly into his throne. “Life is _grand._ ”

She hummed sympathetically. “I can understand why you’d be rightfully frustrated, Sire,” she said, nodding. “Though, if you wished it, I’d be more than willing to go try to obtain this ‘kingpin’ for you myself—”

“The castle would collapse in on itself if you left for longer than five minutes, Kiki,” the Emperor pointed out tiredly. “I can’t afford to send you out for it.”

She nodded again. He was right, they both _knew_ he was right, and as much as she wished to get him what he needed, she was contented with the knowledge that her Emperor was fully aware how indispensable she was. That was something, at least.

…Still. While she might not be able to _get_ him what he needed, she might still be able to _give_ him something…

“In that case,” she began, bowing her head a bit, “might I at least offer you a small distraction?”

He eyed her curiously, then tilted his head slightly as he asked, “What did you have in mind?”

Her smile was obscured by her collar, but she trusted him to catch on to it anyway. “Merely an opportunity to relieve some _tension,_ if it might suit you, Sire.”

He stared at her a second more, then slowly said, “…yes. I think it might.”

She gave him another smile he technically couldn’t see, and moved forward towards him. “Let’s begin, then.”

She reached the base of his throne, and pushed the hem of his robe up to his waist. He lifted his hips slightly from his seat so she could also pull his trousers down enough to expose him, and she noticed him suppress a shiver as the air hit him. He shifted too-casually in his seat to cover it up.

Genitals on the Boiling Isles were about as diverse as its residents, which could sometimes make finding compatible partners tricky. For example, some males had pincers alongside their penises that they would use to grasp onto their partner of choice. Some people (like _her_ , for example) physically could not get involved with people with this particular arrangement, simply due to the sheer agony it would cause. For others, it was their _preference_ , and for still others it was utterly inconsequential one way or another.

Emperor Belos had a set-up similar to the “vanilla” male genitals that could be found on the Isles, with the variation that he had three thin tentacle-like appendages in place of a single member. She selected the leftmost one, gently twining it through her claws as she stroked. The Emperor shifted in his throne, taking a deep, steadying breath as she did. She moved to the one on the far right, repeating the process and smiling beneath her collar at the way it made his legs twitch. Then to the centermost, which she gently rubbed at the base with her thumb.

Stimulating him with her hands was the most she could offer him at present, unfortunately. Going back to how troublesome finding compatible partners on the Boiling Isles was – Kikimora boasted at least twelve rows of needle-like teeth, going as far back as her throat. So the only “lip service” she was ever like to pay him would be strictly in the traditional form of verbal allegiance.

Moreover, while their respective genitals were _technically_ compatible, there was the trifling little matter that he was _vastly_ bigger than her. His full length was probably the size of her _leg_ , there was no way she’d be able to fit that inside of her.

If they really put their minds to it, she was sure they’d be able to come up with _something_ , but as it currently stood they were both ultimately too busy with their respective jobs to dedicate much time to the concept. Perhaps after the Day of Unity had passed and they didn’t have quite so much on their plates, they might discuss things further. But for now they were restricted to sporadic, impromptu moments like this.

(That said, for as much as she was “only” able to do, the Emperor was already gripping the armrests of his throne very hard.)

“The left,” he said suddenly, voice admirably even. “Play with the left again.”

She immediately moved her hand to the requested spot, softly pumping and stroking it, and occasionally running it through her claws again.

“Now the right,” he instructed, and his tone was only just _mostly_ even now. Kikimora obeyed, tracing a vein that ran along its side all the way to the tip, which she then ran her thumb across.

“Center,” he said, voice finally breaking.

She pumped the middle in her fist, and the Emperor had to start taking slow, concentrated breaths to stop his breathing from becoming obtrusively labored.

“Come now,” she coaxed gently, teasing each of his tips in methodical succession and watching them start to curl. “Come together for me, Sire.”

(“ _So I can make you come apart_ ” was thought, but not said.)

The three tentacles suddenly gave a small spasm, and she moved her hand back as they all began twining together. Once they were finished, she resumed her ministrations on the now single, very rigid appendage they had joined to form.

She offered him a polite grin through her collar as she wrapped both hands around it and gave it a quick pump. “Very good, Sire.”

His legs twitched again at her touch, and he didn’t respond.

He was bracing himself, likely. Whilst separate, the Emperor’s members were certainly _sensitive_ , but it was evidently nothing compared to the level of sensation he felt when he was fully aroused and they combined. Kikimora had turned it into a game she wasn’t sure he knew he was playing, wherein she would see how quickly she could get him to start vocalizing once everything had coiled together.

She didn’t feel much like playing at the moment, though. The Emperor seemed remarkably stressed, and the longer he took reaching completion, the more time he (hopefully) had to unwind. She’d take her time with him today.

She gently ran the knuckles of one hand along the underside while swirling her thumb across the tip with the other. The Emperor tilted his head back, and his back arched slightly as his breathing quickened.

(Above their heads, the Titan’s heartbeat quickened as well.)

“ _Ты прекрасна,_ ” she told him quietly, watching his twitching get worse.

Her family had had connections with the human world, once upon a time. No one in the bloodline had been there in generations, regrettably, but her family still prided themselves on the bits of knowledge they’d stolen from it. (It had been exactly that knowledge that had initially helped her catch the Emperor’s interest, actually – though she was quick to insist it was her _skill_ that had ultimately secured her position.) She wasn’t fluent in any of the languages her great-great-grandparents had brought back with them, but she knew enough to string together simple sentences.

Her Emperor _enjoyed_ those sentences, simple or not, though she doubted he had the smallest idea what she was actually saying. Just as well…

“ _Я буду держать тебя в тепле,_ ” she went on, and the Emperor’s twitching evolved into repressed squirming.

She took to simply pumping her hand up and down. She made sure to slow or lighten her touch if ever she noticed him starting to tense – she’d decided to draw this out and she was _going to_ , so help her. The Emperor made a noticeably uneven sound suddenly, drawing her attention up to him.

He was slumping slightly in his throne, elbow resting on the armrest, hand holding up his head. He was burying his face into his palm like he was trying to hide his face. She’d noticed that was a habit of his, if an incredibly nonsensical one. He was constantly wearing a mask – his expression was already well and truly hidden. Oh well. It wasn’t her place to comment.

And anyway, it was… _cute_ , if she was allowed to consider her Emperor as such. Truth be told, she couldn’t say she was feeling especially aroused by any of this – her tastes were a little more… _intricate_ than mere handjobs. Her enjoyment was more comparable to scratching behind a four-nosed dog’s ear and watching its little leg start to thump. She was endeared.

She tugged his trousers down further, exposing the rest of his thighs and his knees. She brushed the tip of his cock with the pad of her thumb again, lightly dragging the claws of her free hand up his inner thigh as she did. The Emperor twisted and _gasped_.

The Emperor’s inner thighs were _remarkably_ sensitive (as evidenced by his knees suddenly trying to lock together – luckily she was literally standing in the way of _that_ ). She debated sometimes whether or not it dipped into outright ticklishness, but she was never brave or stupid enough to try and find out. She kept any contact she instigated with those particular spots fleeting just to be on the safe side, and so far the Emperor had yet to offer any complaints about it.

(Actually, going off his current reaction, he didn’t seem to mind at all, ticklish or not.)

She pulled down her collar, exposing her mouth, and pressed a soft kiss into the side of where his knee bent. She wasn’t able to offer him _much_ pleasure with her mouth, thanks to technical issues, but she could do small things. She leaned forward a bit, pressing more kisses up his thighs (his squirming became less repressed and more overt), then pulled back and planted another on the tip of his erection. As his hips jerked and he tried to bury his mask even further into his hand, she stuck her tongue out swirled it around the head.

The Emperor made a noise that she recognized as a stifled _whimper_.

“You like that, don’t you Sire?” she cooed.

He shot her a look that loitered between unimpressed, dimly irritated, and desperate.

“If you have to ask,” he grumbled, “I’m inclined to question if you actually know what you’re doing to begin with.”

“I should think my track-record speaks for itself,” she said primly. She shot him a look of her own as she once more traced her claws down his inner thigh (and quickly swiped her tongue across his cock again for good measure). “You are _intimately_ acquainted with it, after all…”

His whole body jerked like it wanted to curl in on itself and he’d only just barely stopped it from doing so, and the most he could manage was a choked, “Touché.”

He was sitting low in his seat now, arms curled around himself like he was trying to hold himself still. He was failing horribly if that was the goal, but then Kikimora had expected that. It was well-documented that the Emperor’s movements would become more and more agitated the closer he got to an orgasm.

(It was also well-documented that the phrase “adorably squirmy” would pop into her head every single time she witnessed it, but that particular documentation could safely be filed under “inconsequential factoids the Emperor needn’t be bothered with.”)

“S-say something else,” he panted suddenly, “Kiki, say— _say something else—_ ”

“ _Ты для меня все,_ ” she soothed, privately delighting in the shudder it sent through his body.

They’d reached her favorite part.

“Move your hand up and down again,” he instructed brusquely, hips jerking into her grip. “Good, now use your thumb to— _mmmm_ yes just like that— Use your other hand to— _aah Kiki—!_ Good, good, yes, _good_ —”

When he got towards the end, the Emperor would always (for want of a better term) start _babbling_. She loved it.

Just for fun, she began decelerating her efforts.

He noticed immediately. “Wait— no— no please don’t slow down— no no no Kiki don’t stop please don’t stop— _oh.”_ He squirmed unabashedly in his seat, gripping his armrests for dear life. “ _Ohh_ do that again— Yes— _yes_ — like that just like that— yesyesyes _ohh_ Kiki please that’s so good don’t stop—!”

“ _Ты для меня все,_ ” she said again. “ _Я буду держать тебя в тепле._ ”

The Titan’s heart thundered above their heads. She half suspected it would bring down the castle at this rate.

Quite suddenly the Emperor’s whole body seized, and she only had seconds to react. She was able to angle her body enough to avoid getting hit with his cum, but only just barely. Her hand was still rendered very sticky, but at least it wasn’t all over her clothes. She continued stroking him as he came down from his orgasm (Titan, the small sounds that pulled from him were agonizingly close to _helpless_ ) then finally released her grip as his members began unwinding.

He was breathing rather hard and shaking slightly. Good. With luck, that would stave off the worst of his stress for at least a while.

She flicked her wrist, carving a quick circle into the air, and stuck her presently soiled hand through it. When she pulled it back out, it was as clean as if she’d never done anything at all.

Without much thought, she cast another circle, this time around the base of the Emperor’s genitals. He glanced down, surprised, but before he could say anything she made a quick motion with her hand, pulling the circle towards her. It wasn’t until she heard him yelp she realized what she’d just done.

The spell she’d used was intended to scour things clean. It wasn’t necessarily a _gentle_ sensation, but it wasn’t particularly abrasive, either. Truly the only time it could cause an issue was if you were scouring something that was already over-stimulated.

Which the Emperor almost certainly was by this point.

“Sire I’m so sorry!” she blurted. “I wasn’t thinking – I simply trying to make sure you weren’t left a mess!”

The Emperor was presently curled over slightly, pressing his thighs together. He wasn’t exactly _glaring_ at her, but he also didn’t look exactly pleased. “Warn me next time, perhaps?” he asked icily, voice a bit strained. “So that we might avoid this?”

“Yes, of course Sire,” she agreed meekly. “Again, so sorry.”

He grumbled something indistinct back.

After a moment spent gauging if it was safe, she reached back over to his pants.

“Up,” she said gently, and he acquiescently lifted his hips again, allowing her to re-cover him. She then set to work straightening out his robe, and after a second or so he looked as though nothing had ever happened. He was back to being a pillar of regal majesty again.

Almost.

He looked… fatigued, she realized. Far beyond what she could reasonably account for, actually – there was being tired from orgasming too hard and then there was whatever this was. The memory of the Titan’s heart pounding as she touched him drifted back through her thoughts, and a shot of concern coursed through her.

The Emperor was not _delicate_ by any means, but his… _unique_ position as emissary for the Titan did make regulating the energy he spent all but vital. Energy _she_ had just summarily burnt through. She put both hands in front of her mouth, horrified at herself.

“Sire, I’m so terribly sorry – Have I worn you out? Should I have stopped before—?”

“If you had stopped at any point,” he interrupted, holding up a finger pointedly. “I likely would have fired you. And then had you banished. And possibly fed to a slitherbeast. Or something worse, if I’d been able to think of it.” With a sigh, he asserted, “It’s fine.”

Kikimora’s brow furrowed. “I would hardly call wearing my Emperor down past the point of proper function _fine_ , but if you say so, I suppose…” She took a deep breath, then let it out shortly. “I’ll send someone up with something to refresh yourself with, shall I?”

“That would be prudent,” he agreed, and she could already see his body language shifting as the exhaustion and pain began seeping into his bones. She dearly wished she had the authority to instruct him to go lie in bed when this happened…

“I’ll go do so, then,” she said, straightening and willing her professionalism back to her. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I go, Sire? I likely won’t see you again until the day’s end – we have a group of students coming by for a field trip soon, and I’ll be giving them a tour of the premises for the rest of the afternoon.”

“…One thing,” he decided after a moment’s consideration. “Summon Lilith Clawthorne for a meeting. There are a few things I wish to… _discuss_ with her.”

Not for the first time, Kikimora was grateful for how much of her face her collar covered. Thanks to it, she was allowed to smirk freely.

“Of course, Sire,” she said, inclining her head deferentially. “Will that be all?”

“Indeed, Kiki.”

She inclined her head again, then turned and walked from the room.

Oh, what she’d give to be a fly on the wall for this “meeting…”


End file.
